


Washington's Payoff

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Gen, Reader-Insert, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Song is Oops, Oh My by TweetDisclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	Washington's Payoff

“While we’re waiting for Y/N, the Organized Crime Unit has asked if we have anyone that might be able to go undercover,” Hotch said as everyone gathered in the room. 

JJ sat down at the table next to Emily, waiting for Y/N to bring back the coffees that she’d offered to go pick up for everyone. “What kind of undercover work? Long term? One-time?” JJ asked.

Hotch looked out of the room to see if Y/N had made it back yet. She hadn’t so he decided to continue. “Preferably, they are looking for a female agent who can pose as a stripper at a club that Antonio D’Amica tends to frequent. They need him there and with evidence that he is conducting a ‘meeting’ so he can take him in for questioning, but none of Agent Bracco’s people can get anywhere near him because they’ve been trying to get him off the streets for years. D’Amica knows all of Bracco’s people. He figured he’d ask the BAU, because who better to send in other than one of their own, than someone who studies behavior.”

“I can’t pole dance,” JJ said, waving her hands in front of her face with increasing speed as Hotch looked between her and Emily. “No way. Ask Emily, she and Y/N take pole dancing classes for fun.”

Emily’s head snapped toward her friend. “Jennifer. Jareau. I am going to kill you.” She looked back at the rest of the team. “I’m okay at it, but I’m not great, and I don’t think D’Amica is going to be looking for a 40-year-old stripper. Y/N however is young, equally as beautiful as myself and really amazing on the pole.”

Spencer blushed at Emily’s words. Morgan just smirked. Neither of the younger male agents would admit to having some less-than-innocent thoughts about their newest female co-worker, and their female co-workers in general.

“Well, then I’ll see if she’ll go undercover for Bracco,” Hotch said. Just then, Y/N walked into the room.

“See if who will go undercover for Bracco?” you asked as you walked into the room, coffees teetering on top of each other. 

Emily and JJ immediately looked away considering they’d thrown you under the proverbial bus. Only then did Hotch realize you might take a little convincing. “Agent Bracco needs someone to go undercover once, maybe twice in order to get enough probable cause to bring Antonio D’Amica in for questioning. Brace believes the best bet is to have a female agent go undercover as a dancer at one of the clubs he frequents.”

The only reason that Emily and JJ would be looking away is if ‘dancing’ meant stripping and they were the ones that let the entire fucking team know what you liked to indulge in during your spare time. “You mean dancing as in stripping? You want me to go undercover as a stripper? You do realize that’s an oxymoron? Is there anyone else who can do it?”

Hotch and Rossi shook their heads at the same time. “Bracco can’t get any of his people near D’Amica because-”

“Because they can all be recognized. And they need this?” Again, your boss nodded his head. “Fine,” you said through gritted teeth. “Why not Emily? She takes the classes too!” Angrily, you snapped your head in Emily’s direction. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus! The fact that I enjoy taking strip classes in my spare time is not something I really wanted to parade around the Bureau!”

“It wasn’t me! JJ said it!”

JJ’s mouth dropped open and she started stammering about how she didn’t mean for it to come out. “I’m sorry,” she said with a strained, half smile. 

You wiped the anger from your face and turned back toward Hotch, trying to remain professional. “Tell Bracco I’ll do it, but if his team can’t be there as backup then that means you all have to, yes?” The idea of your co-workers seeing you strip was humiliating. D’Amica better be going down for the rest of his goddamn life if you were doing this. 

Rossi nodded. “Yes, we would.”

“Fine. When?”

“Tomorrow night,” Hotch said, handing you the number to the club. “You’ll be wearing a device in your inner ear that can’t be seen and the club owner is already aware of the situation, so just give him a call and…”

“And tell him what song I’m going to use,” you said with your eyes closed. This was so humiliating. This was meant to be something you had for yourself and now all of your co-workers were going to see it up close and personal. “I’m warning you all right now,” you started angrily, not caring that you was speaking to agents who were all seniors to you, “if I hear any remarks about anything in regards to this at all, I will kill you slowly and painfully. Are we clear?”

No one wanted to bring on your wrath and quickly agreed.

—-

The next night, you got ready in the back while the rest of the team was situated outside. You were making idle chat with the other dancers backstage when you heard Spencer in your ear. “I believe D’Amica is here with a couple of associates. He’s toward the front, but none of us can be sure it’s him from the angles we’re in.”

Because you were talking with the girls, you slipped in a couple of words that could’ve been passed as an answer to Spencer and the rest of the team. Doing this in the comfort of a class had been one thing; you were comfortable and it was only you and a bunch of other women, but doing this in front of people you didn’t know and weren’t sleeping with was something else entirely. The bile was churning in the pit of your stomach. You were going to have to channel an amazing amount of confidence for this dance because otherwise you’d look out of place. This club in particular was known for having skilled, high-end dancers. You were in so over her head and you were seriously pissed off. 

After a couple of other girls took their first turns on stage, you heard the announcer say your stage name, which you’d come up with by combining your favorite animal with the street you grew up on - Kitty Washington. “Please welcome, Miss Kitty Washington to the stage!”

With a deep breath, you changed your demeanor, putting on your best bedroom eyes as you walked out onto the stage in your already skimpy outfit that was about to get even more skimpy. You were wearing black suede boots, a pleated black skirt and a tight red tank top. Some of the girls went full on stripping, others did not; you were definitely in the not area. You’d be going down to the bra and panties and no further, especially not with your teammates and friends nearby. No fucking way. 

For your song, you’d picked Oops, Oh My by Tweet - a song you’d heard as a kid that your mother never knew you listened to…which was probably a good thing.

I’ll tell ya what I did last night  
I came home, say around a quarter to three  
Still so high, hypnotized  
In a trance, from his body  
So buttery brown and tantalizing  
You would have thought I needed help  
With the feeling that I felt  
So shook I had to catch my breath

Leaning gently up against the pole, you began to sway your hips back and forth, slowly but surely gliding down the pole until you were crouched down and could coyly open your legs. As you came back up, you rolled your hips around, spinning so you could get a decent look of the area. To your right were D’Amica and his friends. He was less than appealing, but you started giving him eyes. If you could get him to bring out some money, you could give him a little dance and get closer to him, maybe here something that would clinch the case for Agent Bracco. 

Once you settled on a battle plan, you gathered your feet at the bottom of the pole and started walking around it, allowing your hand to glide over the cool metal. Hooking your legs around, you floated around a few times before making eyes at D’Amica again and slowly lifting your shirt above your head, throwing it backward onto the stage. 

Oops! There goes my shirt up over my head, oh my  
Oops! There goes my skirt droppin’ to my feet, oh my  
Oh! Some kind of touch caressing my legs, oh my  
Oh! I’m turnin’ red who could this be

D’Amica gave you the crook of his finger and beckoned you over; it was almost too easy. Gracefully, you got down off the stage, teasing him by giving him a peek of the panties you were wearing. This was empowering in a way, but you’d much rather be doing this for a boyfriend or girlfriend. When you approached him, you turned around and place your hands on his knees, once again swaying your hips and luring him into a trance.

As you suspected, one of his cohorts mentioned something about a problem being “taken care of.” You kept him distracted by hooking your thumbs into your skirt and pushing it down your legs, deftly kicking it back onto the stage. 

“Don’t worry, man. No trail. It’s taken care of.” Without even thinking, he pulled out a $100 bill and stuffed into the black string holding the thin red material that covered you.

With a wink, you made your way back up onto the stage, money of varying denominations guiding your path until you finished out the song with some of the more difficult moves you’d learned in class, including a dance called olympic style - a apt name considering the strength it required. It called for you to use nearly every muscle in your body to lift it, using your arms, flip so that you were upside down and then move your legs outward and then toward the pole, all while spinning.

Oops! There goes my shirt up over my head, oh my  
Oops! There goes my skirt droppin’ to my feet, oh my  
Oh! Some kind of touch caressing my legs, oh my  
Oh! I’m turnin’ red who could this be

You ended by clenching your legs around the pole and hanging upside down, which brought a round of hoots and hollers your way. Picking up your clothes, you passed by D’Amica one more time and gave him a final wink before heading backstage again. Thirty minutes later, after collecting the money you’d earned during that dance, which you intended to keep, you met your team back at the office, which was 30 minutes from the club you’d danced in. “Not a word,” you muttered the second you walked into the conference room. “Did Bracco get what he needed?” Hotch nodded, and you heaved a sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t all for nothing. “You all owe me. Dinner and drinks? Right now? I drink as much as I want and you pay?”

“Sounds good to me,” Hotch chuckled. Emily and JJ just looked impressed. Hotch and Rossi kept blank faces. And Morgan looked flabbergasted, while Spencer looked like he wanted to drool. That was actually kind of funny. 

“With all that money you earned shouldn’t you be treating us?” he asked jokingly. 

You raised your eyebrows at him, pulling out the money you’d earned. It was definitely a high-end club. “How much did you make?” Emily asked in awe.

“$820 dollars,” you laughed. That’s what happened when you went to high-end clubs in DC apparently. You came across crime bosses, and politicians and other government officials with too much money. “If this whole thing doesn’t work out for me, I think I’ve found my calling, and as for dinner, fuck that. If I had to do that while everyone else watched when these classes were supposed to be our little secret,” you said, pointing between you and Emily, “I’m investing in a pair of Louboutins that I’ve wanted forever. You bitches owe me.”

As you walked out of the room to head to the elevator, Spencer continued to eye you in awe, whispering to Morgan. “What the hell are Louboutins?


End file.
